Tommy
sports a feathered headdress, a tomahawk. Ask him his specialty and
he’ll say, Scalping. I’ll get you front-row
seats for
50 simoleons. A smattering of groans is all it takes. With
winkers in both
eyes, Tommy hits on flesh-and-blood ladies. He
remembers Mae
West’s chat with McCarthy and wonders if all wood and a
yard long really mattered at the end of the day, when the
engine hum lulled
him in the cargo hold.

2.
Foam-Lined Collar for Tight, Smooth
Head Action!

Homer is sick of the labels. Dubbed the perfect
country boy, he curses the powers that be, men who refuse to
use their tools
to fix his pie-in-the-face buck teeth. He knows they’re called
incisors. For three
shows a night, he’s forced to play the game, to whistle “Dixie”
sloppily, to
lament the demise of Robert E. Lee. Off stage, his best friend is
Leroy, the
only black male dummy in the wardrobe. Without a hand in his spine,
Homer turns
giant, moveable eyes toward books, all those books. He knows about Bill
Clinton, Kris Kristofferson; he knows Rhodes Scholars can come from the
South.
He knows characters, those Carson McCullers characters, Flannery
O’Connor
characters, characters not whittled from wood to stomp out stereotypes,
to lift
the Leroys from Stepin Fetchit fates.

3. Sears Portrait Studios

Homer, Trixie Kay, Hank, and Jay P. Crackerbarrell showed up an hour
early for
the photo dressed in plaids, stripes, argyle, a white lace dishrag over
crisp
polyester. Black, red, burnt orange, turquoise—it didn’t matter as long
as it
didn’t match. Just this once, they cast aside competition, refused to
size up by
talent. This took unity under professional umbrellas, full protest
mapped out
like a Jane Fonda peace sign, a pink bumper sticker. When they sat,
even Homer appeared
relaxed for once, looking away from the camera, stretching a Handshaker
arm
over Trixie Kay’s legs. This time, she didn’t mind. Of course they knew
what
would follow, what the 360-degree head-turn feature was really for. Of
course
they knew it would be worth it.

4.
Marvelous Martin Cash

He
rolls them from gig to gig in a wardrobe on wheels. Typically they’ll
go
straight from hours of darkness to white stage lights warm enough to
pucker the
enamels of eyes. Once their loose legs rest on his lap, he’ll do the
rest.
They’ll seem to smile, slits in jaws the only sign they’re not in
control. When
Cash was only Martin, he never got a laugh, never won a fight with a
child. Now
he never notices when oxygen becomes scarce, never notices when the
zipper on
the bag pulls gently like a string.

5.
Accessories

Wiggling
Ears can tell a joke without a punchline. The Stick-Out Tongue needn’t
be rude;
open up and say ah can play to
kids.
If you get the Spitter, point it at yourself or the floor; audiences
don’t like
to clean up. You can use The Handshaker to nudge but not The Nudger to
handshake. Winkers are best of all, but you’ll have to go to camp to
master
them. Same with Raising Eyebrows. And don’t forget to use them all at
once, or
you might as well go back to your sock puppet past. Partners always
know when
you’re faking.

6. Figures Are Available in Either the Slot-Jaw Mouth or Living
(no-slot)
Mouth!

Trixie Kay can handle the men, can handle being one of the only girls.
She
likes how her Nancy Sinatra hairstyle stands up to travel. She and the
others
are all called mischievous, but she
gets to stand up when hit on. Even in vaudeville, dames could slap
scoundrels
for a laugh. Nothing is ever funnier than rejection. Trixie Kay looks
like the
little sister you protect on the bus, but chauvinism didn’t paint those
cheeks
red. She stole that varathane finish from the case, looked herself in
the
mirror, applied till she was ready.

You’re not like all the others,
Leroy’s partner would tell him on stage. Next, disco music would split
the PA,
Leroy bobbing his head off-rhythm.

Q:
What’s the square root of 3?
A: 1.73205080757,
approximately.

Cue the plant in the audience, the
6-foot blond white woman
who struts across the front row. Look at
you. You’re not even going to whistle. Unable to frown, he
sits upright
under that caricature afro, mohair in need of a trim. He would run if
his legs
could touch the ground.

8. Trap Door on Back of Head

Jay P. Crackerbarrell is the only one who looks unhappy. He’s most
affected by
safety features, the sealed head. He knows why he was made this way,
knows his
head can’t swell, can’t rot, can’t mildew. Insects stay away. He will
never
split or crack. Being sealed inside and out would seem to prevent
feeling,
would seem to enable immortality without inconvenience of pulse. Yet he
grimaces even when he’s the aggressor, even when they’re laughing with
him. He
longs to escape out that trap door just once, the boy outside the
bubble who
knows there can be no return.

9.
The Ventriloquist, 1970

When
he devised the routine, he couldn’t decide whether to go with Crystal,
the
black one, or Trixie Kay, who could pass for mixed. He knew Ronnie
Spector was
mixed, but most people didn’t. Black was probably better, definitely
better.
Flattening that kinky hair would disrespect the maker’s vision. Tearing
it off
seemed out of the question. So much trouble just for a beehive, but
trouble is
no problem when in the end, you get to enter to thump
thump-thump CHICK thump thump-thump CHICK. Nothing is a
problem when you hit all the high notes. If the real Ronnie were to get
laryngitis, he could just stand there frozen mouthed while she
lip-synched. But
the hell with that. He always prefers the wooden ones, always likes how
his
hand feels through the back, on the dowel. Phil used to lock Ronnie in
the
house. He would take her shoes away. Crystal and Trixie Kay never take
charge
and still get all the credit. He didn’t have to matter at all while the
audience sang along with “Be My Baby,” cherishing what it meant to be
surrounded by a transparent wall of sound, to be dazzled by a voice
thrown like
high heels.

10. Ball & Socket Neck

People call Hank scholarly.
What else would you call someone who wears a turtleneck and
sits with his
legs crossed? Hank once did an edgy bit, postmodern, meta. No one could
figure
out how he pulled it off, how he forced his partner to storm off and
throw him
against the wall. Hank froze, went mute. No one believed the next best
thing—the last-resort mumbling—was his.

11.
Historically Wooden Figures Have Increased in Value

Martin Cash retired when the stand-ups took over, men and women with
only
themselves. Now he runs the Marvelous Museum, where 60 ex-performers
rest
behind glass. Children often stare as if waiting for figures to move.
Children
ask, But what did they do? Cash
just
smiles back, mum, imitating Hank’s moment of disobedience. He redirects
them to
the golden age of Bergen and Winchell replayed on the TV screens above.
The
grainy footage separates hands from bodies.

***
Note: Names
of dummies,
their features, and several of the titles were derived from
the 1970s Maher Workshop Figure Catalog.